


a study in forgetting

by gamesgeary_18



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends With Benefits, I don't know why I like those honestly, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Porn With Plot, Slow Burn, Strong Language, kind of, more of a fragmented style
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-06-29 02:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15720072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamesgeary_18/pseuds/gamesgeary_18
Summary: Keith Kogane had always been a constant in his life, as well as the bane of his existence. Be it back in middle school when he showed up for the first time, knees scraped and adorned with colourful band-aids, a scowl on his face; or at the Garrison with his stuck up attitude and nasty right hook.





	1. Chapter 1

Time doesn’t exist in the desert. The footprints fade away, memories and landmarks buried under layers and layers of sand. Sometimes letting them peak out, just a glimpse of what once was before snatching it away once again. The desert pretends to heal. It has a habit of slipping into every little crack, filling it with grainy bits of sand. Like the illusion of a solid foundation, eating away at the rest of the structure. And by the time you realise that all you’re left with is a sand castle with nothing to hold it together, it’s too damn late.

The sand crunches under the soles of his boots. The shack is abandoned. Just like the last time he visited. And the time before that. And before that. The couch is falling apart, the sheets still rumpled from sleep but decked in a layer of dirt. Fine sand slipping into the folds of the fabric. The green board is still up. The sheet Keith always draped over it lying in a heap on the little table made of cinder-blocks and a single slab of concrete. The board is still decked out in pictures and tape and sketches of ruins and symbols. James remembers stuttering out a joke about cryptids nearly a year back. He remembers the panic that had his stomach twisting in on itself, worsened by the dark look in Keith’s eyes as he refused to meet his gaze. His nose scrunches in remembered pain and he brushes his knuckles against the crooked bridge of it. The old worn mattress is gone. He doesn’t need to check the back room because he already had the last time he was here. 

Pathetic.

There were memories here once. Memories he doesn’t want. Maybe if he says it enough he will begin to believe it. It hasn’t worked yet, but who is he to give up hope. The fact remains that there were memories…still are. And every step inside this shack and every breath makes this desert shift and he can’t for the life of him reach out and touch anything. He doesn’t want to see things the way they were. Not now and maybe not ever.  He has no purpose here. Not anymore. He places the small cardboard box in the centre of the table and hurries out the door.

The storm is finally picking up and he should probably head back inside and seek out shelter. Let the little building protect him as much as it can before it falls apart but he can’t. Maybe he is a coward, but he would much rather face the storm than spend the night here. It’s nothing new though, Keith had always given him the choice between the devil and the deep sea.

James Arthur Griffin, the coward he is, slips onto his bike. The nearest town is just a few miles north, he probably can’t outrun the storm but anything is better than turning back. With a click of his helmet he kicks the bike into gear and tsks into the wind whipping around him.

“Happy nineteenth birthday you fucking Jackass.”

* * *

The first time James sees him is in middle school. Keith Kogane, with his eyes that take up most of his face, round cheeks and shaggy hair. Standing at the front of the class, knees decked out in multi-coloured band aids and his red shirt a little too big on his frame. The teacher introduces him, tells the class that he’s a new admission and that she hopes they’d get along well. Keith doesn’t say much, his shoulders jerk up to his ears, cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. The rest of the day is a blur.

It isn’t till recess that James finally does look at the new boy properly. He’s sitting near the back, cheeks still stained red but it’s not just the blush anymore. He has his head hunched down and away from the group of girls crowding around him, pinching his cheeks and calling him pretty. And James takes it upon himself to save the new kid from the ultimate insult to a man’s ego.

“Oi…leave him alone.” He calls out and all the girls turn to him, wide eyed and tittering, and he can finally see past the gaggle of girls where the new kid has his hands slapped over his steadily reddening cheeks and a scowl on his face.

“But Jimmy, he’s got purple eyes!” Clara pipes up, her braids bobbing around in her excitement. "I didn’t know anybody could have purple eyes."

James rolls his eyes at that and stalks towards them.

“Purple eyes aren’t real Clara, you’re being silly.” He scoffs at the girl who sticks out her tongue at him but the group of girls step away from the boy anyway. Still giggling and waving at the dark haired boy who refuses to make eye contact with any of them.

James stands next to his desk and leans against it. “You could at least thank me, you know?”

“Thanks”

His voice is soft, like he doesn’t use it much. James guesses it’s the nerves. Before his mum decided to settle in the city with him and Carmen, they used to move around a lot. Back when his dad was still living with them. Now his dad came home only for short visits from wherever he was posted at that given time. So he knows how it feels to be the new kid in a new place.

He plasters on his best smile and stretches out his hand for the boy to take, “I’m James. Griffin. But you can call me Jimmy. You’re Keith, right?”

The boy finally does lift his chin and meet his eyes. A small smile stretching across his face. “Yeah, Keith Kogane.”

Keith has a firm handshake, distantly James remembers his dad telling him about firm handshakes being a sign of good character. “Well Keith.” He grins down at the boy, and for a second he does think Clara was maybe half right about his eyes, “Welcome to Newman’s Academy.”

* * *

James is top of his class. He loves to make his teacher smile, he loves to see his mother proudly wave around his report card. Even if his dad doesn't quite react as happily as he does with Carmen. His brother told him once that it was because their dad was trying to get Carmen to join the force and not because James was doing something wrong. It should have helped. But it didn't. Not really.   


Sometimes Carmen slips into his room in the middle of the night. He looks more like his dad than James does. He has the same black hair and the light blue eye. Carmen is brilliant. Everybody says it and everybody knows it. He’s athletic, at the very top of his class, great at music and art and numbers. He’s the centre of attention. And sometimes James hates him. Hates him for how his dad always calls Carmen’s name first, how it’s his brother’s name that brightens up his face and drags a vivid smile out of him.

But when he burst into his room every other night decked out in unicorn pajamas and his tablet with some new song he composed in the middle of the night, just so James is the first person to hear it. He can’t help but admit that he adores his brother.

Their relationship isn’t the greatest in terms of affection and brotherly support but it’s there. And even when his parents see Carmen before him. He knows in his heart that to his brother, he will always be the first.

* * *

Keith’s dad is a fireman. At first James was a little apprehensive about the idea but after meeting up with Mr Kogane, turns out that no, firemen do not go into burning buildings shirtless. He also realises that his mum’s favourite soap opera with firemen is not really a good example of what real fire fighting entails.

In fact Mr Kogane is pretty darn cool and it more than makes sense that Keith would want to follow in his footsteps. So it’s no wonder that it surprises him when Keith mentions wanting to be something other than a fireman.

“But why would you do that?” Keith blinks at him with his large eyes, as if James hadn’t asked a simple question.

“What do you mean?” it’s a slow drawl. It is one of James’ favourite things about Keith. It’s the same thick southern drawl Mr Kogane has and it’s unique. Something that he doesn’t hear out here in the city. His mum had said something about people having lost their accents with time as they left the towns for the city. Melting stoves or something of the type. Only those who stayed in the towns back home actually retained the thick accents and whenever Keith came over after school, James noticed how she would start slipping into her own drawl. Much lighter than Keith’s but still noticeable enough.

“Why would you not want to be a fireman?” he asked. “You’re dad’s a fireman.”

“Because I want to go to space?”

And yes, that was another thing. Keith had a keen interest in all things space. From space dust to alien life. He had made James sit through reruns of every cheesy space flick he could get his hands on. But that’s not how things work, this isn’t about some weird dream, it’s about what they will be in the future. What they should be.

“Doesn’t your dad want you to be a fireman too?” James can feel the breath catching in his throat, something twists in his gut. “Just like him.”

“Nah” Keith waves a hand at him, tossing the little foil ball to the side, smiling like that’s the simplest thing in the world. “Dad says I can be whatever I want to be.” And then his smile widens, its blinding and for some reason James doesn’t want to see It.” and when I told him I wanted to be an astronaut, you wouldn’t believe how happy he was!”

And no, James doesn’t want to know. Keith had always been like that. Wide eyed and his heart on his sleeve. Always dreaming and dreaming about purple skies and silver hair and magic and elfen ears. Like how Keith insisted his eyes were purple like his mum’s, not that he even had a single picture of his mother anywhere in his house.

“Well…I still want to be a fighter pilot.”

“Just like your dad.” And Keith’s got this soft sad look in his eyes and he hates it. “Yeah I know Jimmy. But is that what you want to be too?”

The knot in his stomach curls further and he wants to throw up. He doesn’t look at Keith, instead he looks at the sky, the clouds and the birds and he wonders why. But it sure would be nice to fly.   


“Of course I do. Don’t be stupid Kogane.”

“Okay.” And it’s a rush of air dancing around the pity in his voice. It makes his fist clench as he leans back on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him.

“Okay.” And that’s that.

* * *

Things change after a while. They move up a grade, classes get harder, James’ family moves to a more crowded part of the city. His dad visits lesser and lesser as the months go on. There are arguments every other day and soon it’s every day, multiple times. It all comes to a head when the argument ends with the front door slamming shut. The house is silent for the rest of the day.

Carmen doesn’t come home that night.

It’s easy talking to Keith about things, sitting on the rooftop of the school building. They aren’t allowed up there but Keith has never cared anyway. And James stays to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. Logic dictates he tell Keith to stop coming here during recess. Or at least tell the teacher but he isn’t about rat out his friend. Not when it’s the only place he can talk about things at home.

Sometimes he wonders if Keith even listens. The boy has his head in the clouds. He daydreams in class, zones out during PE. Gets lost talking about what he thinks is out there in space.

It’s easy talking to him but he doesn’t understand. He’s never had siblings that could one up him without even meaning to. His dad has never looked past him at the other kid with hopes and expectations sparkling in his eyes. He’s never been the normal one. He’s never had to prove himself to get his dad to pet his hair.

“Keith says he’s gonna be an astronaut.” James had said at the dinner table once. Attempting to break the heavy silence that had set in since Carmen left and never came back. His father tsked and didn’t bother to look up.

James bit his cheek and continued warily, “His dad thinks it’s a great idea.”

“That man needs to focus more on his kid’s future. It’s unseemly that a kid his age is still living in wonderland.”

“There’s nothing wrong wi-“

“Enough Jimmy!” his mother’s voice is soft, tired. She’s been this way since Carmen left. She’s been this way since she screeched at his father to go after his brother, to call him back. His brother, 17 year old, brilliant, with a letter from the Garrison itself.

He stops talking. The clink of spoons against the ceramic is deafening.

He wants to know when Carmen will be back. He wants to know where he is, if he’s even still alive out there. But nobody talks about him. Not even a whisper. His dad has made it clear that he has just one son.

“James?” his dad looks at him. Really looks at him and he shivers. It’s the same look he used to give Carmen once upon a time. The proud father staring at a son who has given him nothing but hope.

“Yeah dad?” his voice wavers under the weight of the gaze. His heart leaps into his throat. His dad is looking at him like he’s proud of him.

“I know you’ll make me proud, son.”

And he smiles, his big hand reaching forward to ruffle his hair. And James beams up at him.

“I promise dad.”

“Just promise me one thing, soldier.”

“Anything.”

“Stay away from Kogane.”

“But-“

“You want to make me proud don’t you?”

The hand on his head is heavy now, from the corner of his eye he sees his mother’s hand tighten on her spoon, her head hanging low. He looks back at his father’s face. His mouth down turned and God he can’t un-see that flash of disappointment in his eyes.

“Yes father.”

“That kid is a bad influence.” He murmurs petting his hair before he pulls back and lifts his spoon to his mouth, blowing on the soup. “For a garden to thrive we need to remove the weeds.”

“Yes father.”

* * *

“My dad thinks you’re a weed.” He doesn’t mean to say it, but it tumbles out anyway.

“So does mine.” Keith laughs at him, not looking up from his textbook.

“Your dad called you a weed?”

“Yeah. We went out camping yesterday. And dad pointed at a pretty weed and said I had to be like it. Willing to grow and thrive no matter where I was.”

“Your dad’s crazy.” It’s meant to be funny, but it comes out bitter. As usual when it comes Keith and his dad.

“Well at least mine talks to me.” It’s an offhand comment but it stings. It stings more than it should and it is uncalled for. But Keith was never one for nuance or tact. There is no regret on his face, like he doesn’t even realise what he’s said is hurtful. But it is, and something burns at the back of his throat.  


“Take it back.” And Keith is looking at him wide eyed. His mouth opens and closes a few times but he doesn’t say anything. “Take it back!” he insists again.

“Why?” Keith looks confused, his brows pulled together. “I’m not lying.”

“I said take it back!” his eyes sting, vision whiting out he grabs at Keith’s collar, lifting the smaller boy off his seat.

“Your brother ran away, that’s the only reason why your dad is even looking at you!” Keith babbles, his eyes terrified and confused. “You said it yourself”

“Says the boy whose mom left him!”

And God he knows he messed up the moment Keith’s eyes widen. But he’s pissed. He’s hurting and he wants to hurt him too. And while he knows tact he never learnt impulse control. His head snaps to the side and copper fills his mouth. Before he can re-orient himself, the breath is knocked out of him when Keith shoves his shoulder into his gut. He slams into the floor, elbow smacking against a bench. Keith’s on him in an instant, straddling his waist and hitting him over and over again. He shields his face with his arms but Keith’s punches are angry and lack any strength.

People are screaming and suddenly Keith is lifted off of him by a teacher. He’s still kicking and screaming at James to take it back. James’ tongue is swollen and tears are streaming down both their faces but he’s had enough. Keith never listens and when he does he doesn’t care, so why should he.

“Why?” he echoes with a sob, “I’m not even lying.”

* * *

Things change quickly after the fight. The bruise on his cheek fades to a pale brown but the words don’t. Keith no longer talks to him. Keith doesn’t quite talk to anyone actually. James realises he was pretty much the only one he hung out with. Or rather James hung out with him. Keith never even cared. So Keith stays at the back of the class, looking out the window anytime James eyes fall on him, never actually paying attention to the teacher. He disappears during recess and while he knows just where Keith went, he never really bothers to follow him. James’ grades get better than ever, his dad gives him pleased smiles any time he is home. Which isn’t often enough anymore.

His dad was right. Keith was a bad influence.

It’s a week later when Keith returns to the classroom five minutes after recess begins. Usually he’s the first to sprint off with his hippo printed lunch box and comes back barely in time for the class to start. James freezes when violet eyes snap up at him. He’s pissed. Keith stomps up to him and fixes him with a burning gaze.

“You ratted me out.”

“Wha-?”

“You were the only one who knew!” Keith’s fists shake at his side, knuckles white and James wonders if he will throw another punch at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” James glares back. He really doesn’t but he has an idea.  Keith’s mouth opens and closes a few times. His brows furrow and his frown deepens. His gaze drops to the floor and James feels guilt slipping up his throat. He presses his lips together. his resolve beginning to crumble.  


“Ke-“but Keith turns around and walks away, slumping into his seat near the window, his lunchbox is nowhere to be seen.

James sighs and turns back to his textbook, Keith isn’t his problem anymore.

That night when he slips downstairs to get a glass of water he finds his dad at home. He’s sleeping on the couch, still fully dressed in his uniform, head propped up on his hand, elbow on the armrest. He’s snoring softly, the lights from the TV screen playing across his face, the blanket pooled at his waist. James sneaks up to him and quietly pulls the sheet up to his chin, tucking it behind his shoulders.

“Good night dad.” He can’t help the smile on his face. He misses Carmen. He really does but his dad had never paid any attention to him before. And now, he feels important. Like his father sees something in him now that he didn’t before. He reaches for the remote, the news is on. There’s a report about a fire on the outskirts of the city. He turns it off and carefully places the remote on the centre table.

He’s got a test tomorrow that he’s fully prepared for and a confrontation with Keith over facts. Fact about never having told anyone about the rooftop. The door to the rooftop that he had found bolted shut after school with a heavy duty lock and the remains of a purple lunch box with hippos on the floor and food smeared across the door as if it had been thrown with remarkable force.

It’s not a confrontation he is prepared for. But it’s a conversation that needs to be had. He needs to end this on decent terms.

That week Keith never shows up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only one student from each school is to receive the scholarship. And it seems awfully unfair that despite all his hard work and struggle to get into the Garrison he would get pushed aside for Keith, who never even pretended to have a dream or plan. Just because he was a ‘natural’ as Shirogane put it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please refer to the tags for trigger warnings. You have been warned.

James doesn’t quite miss Keith. He’s been busy for a while now, focusing heavily on his academics and sports. To be a pilot like his dad, he needs to be the best from the very start. He needs to get into the Garrison and unlike his brother he won’t just get up and leave when that happens.

He’s already at his assigned seat when the door to the class room opens. It’s Keith. He’s back, eyes rimmed with darkened circles, face devoid of any expression. Blank eyes scan the room before settling on James and he takes one step forward before stopping in his tracks. James watches as Keith turns away abruptly and stalks to his seat, slumping down in it, for once not gazing outside the window at whatever it is that he was so fascinated by for the last three years. He considers going over. He considers turning back to his revision. He considers a lot of things that he doesn’t know if he should do. Plans he perhaps shouldn’t follow through. It’s been a week since Keith last came to school, since he last spoke to him, about the rooftop.

He is snapped out of his reverie when the teacher walks in and the first class of the day begins.

Soon after things go back to the way they should be. James is still top of the class. Keith still spends more time staring out the window and doodling shapes in his textbooks. He thinks it’s perfectly fine.

And then Keith moves away. Nobody makes a big deal out of it. Nobody really cared. Keith wasn’t one to make friends who would ask after him. He made it pretty clear that no one even came near. But curiosity gets the better of him and he asks anyway and all the teacher tells him with a flash of pity in her dark eyes is that “his parents live faraway.”

* * *

 

It’s the final year of middle school when Keith comes back. He’s still incredibly tiny compared to the rest of his classmates. James himself shot up more than a little, lost much of his baby fat and ended up with greasy hair that remained greasy no matter what he did. The only saving grace he felt was that his skin blessedly cleared up after the first six months of acne.

Life’s little pleasures.

Keith on the other hand, was still painfully small and with the same shaggy head of hair, a little longer than before. Still quite and aloof. But that was where the similarities stopped. His gaze had sharpened to knives, his face was still round with baby fat but the dreamy lost look was gone. In its place was a vicious directed anger. A scowl constantly tugged at his mouth and his quite was no longer comfortable. He radiated the kind of negativity that even the people who hadn’t cared before gave him a wide berth.

Nobody wants to deal with someone who looked like they’d punch your light out for glancing at them wrong.

“Remember that Keith kid?” they would say in the hallway, glancing at him as he stalked by. “I heard he punched Griffin so hard that his teeth fell out.”

“Really? Someone said his eye is fake because Keith punched out his eye. There was blood everywhere.”

Middle school is a rumour mill. Rumours and baseless “facts” churn out faster than a Mach 7, it frustrates James how many people stare at him to collect the juiciest gossip about his and Keith’s fight from two years back.

“I heard Keith pushed him down the stairs and that’s why he has a scar on his chin.”

“Yeah? I heard Keith was there too.”

“Seems pretty sus to me.”

And no, there’s rumours about fights and then there’s harmful rumours about Keith deliberately hurting him. And even if he hasn’t spoken to him in nearly two years, he isn’t willing to let the slander continue. And he tries. He does try to put out that damn fire but it only makes it worse.

A new rumour starts out that James and Keith’s are friends and honestly it’s not the worst but Keith has never even looked at him since the start of the school year and they haven’t shared a single conversation. It’s not exactly the worst thing to be friends with someone but for some reason that’s the only time Keith confronts him.

Keith grabs him by the elbow in the crowded hallway. Fingers dig into his skin painfully and James glares at the shorter boy.

“What are you doing?” James asks, trying to pull away but Keith’s grip tightens and he winces. He’ll end up having a bruise there.

“We need to talk.” It’s a new thing. Keith’s got into this new habit of lowering his head and glaring up at people with teeth bared when he is pissed. Either that or he has a defiant lift to the chin and a disrespectful and bored gaze. The latter for anyone who tries to talk to him or when someone tries to talk some sense into him and the former reserved for when he’s annoyed or angered. And this isn’t the first time James has seen it. But it’s the first time it is directed at him.

“We can talk here.” The hallway has fallen silent. People have stopped pretending to ignore them. They’re all directly focused on the two of them. James can hear the soft mumbles and whispers. He can hear the cogs in their heads turning, churning out new “facts” based on a single scene with no context. Although James would kill for some context.

“No.”

“Then I have no interest in continuing this conversation.” James argues, jerking his arm back hard enough that Keith’s fingers fall off. The drag of his tightened grip is a sharp ache that dulls down to a lingering pain and he rubs the tender skin.

“Fine.” Keith spits out, still glaring at him before dropping his eyes to the floor. He takes a deep breath and grits his teeth. “After school, near the parking lot.” With that Keith stalks away again, uncaring of the scene he caused. Everybody is still staring at James and he’s tired. Too tired to deal with this crap.

“What?” he spits at the hall and everybody scatters like nothing ever happened. He knows there is going to be another rumour by the end of next period.

* * *

 

James finds Keith in the parking lot, leaned up against a blue bulky model. James doesn’t want to go there and get involved in whatever Keith plans to drag him into. It’s not worth it. He does however have a code to uphold and if there is one thing he learnt from his father, it was how to not be a coward.

“Keith.” He calls out and when the boy’s head snaps towards him, he hesitates. Just for a moment, before straightening his spine and marching forward with intent. Keith’s eyes stay on him, frown deepens into an almost sneer. It throws him off, just a little. He doesn’t know what he has done to deserve that look.

“What are you doing?”

James stops a foot away from him. Confused and clueless.

“What am I doing?” he lets his book-bag drop near his feet. “You were the one who made a scene in school. Not me.”

“I’m not making a scene.” Keith growls and pushes away from the car, his hands fist at his sides. “Why the fuck are you lying about me.”

“Is this about the rumours?” James asks then, because that would make sense. Rumours about Keith being his bully, about him breaking his ribs, or busting his nose or tripping him down stairs. And he gets that Keith would be pissed. “I’m trying to put them to rest!”

“Yeah well I don’t need your help!” he hisses. “I don’t like you and there’s no need for you to pretend you like me.”

“Yeah I don’t need to pretend. I don’t like you either.”

“Well fuck you!”

And that’s the first time he’s heard anyone use that word. He panics and slams into Keith, slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Are you crazy?” he hisses and Keith thrashes against him, he kicks at James’ leg and bites down hard. James pushes away with a yelp and Keith slams into the car.

“What’s your problem?” Keith shoves him back.

“You bit me, you jerk!” James cries out, his hand hurts, its bleeding. Keith’s eyes widen at the blood. James cradles his hand close to his body and glares past his tears at Keith. Keith’s mouth moves a few times, forming words but there’s no sound.

And then he runs.

* * *

 

It’s a messed up coincidence that his father comes home for the week. It’s so screwed up it isn’t even funny. His parents don’t really talk anymore. His mother never says a word before 8 pm and his dad spends the whole time watching TV, his uniform half off, jacket hanging off the side of the couch. Dinners are silent, the clink of china deafening. It’s a suffocating kind of silence and James feels sick. He carefully spoons his food off the plate and into the napkin in his lap. The sight of it makes him feel ill.

Eight o’ clock is when the passive aggressive accusations start. It’s started weighing on her. Carmen leaving, she blames his father for it. He blames her for raising their sons wrong. James retires early on those nights. It’s not a regular thing but it happens with an alarming frequency every time his father comes back.

That night when his tablet buzzes on his bedside he watches it silently, allows it to ring through before it goes dark again. It lights up three more times with calls before falling silent. He reaches for it, eyes tracing the letters in his brother’s name and puts it back face down. A short buzz informs him of an incoming voice message. He doesn’t answer.

* * *

“They partnered you up with Keith?” Marissa asks him in class the next day, her eyes wide with worry.

“What?”

“You and Keith.” She says, nodding at the chart put up on the notice board in the front of their class. “For the assignment. They paired you up.”

“You’re joking!” and when she doesn’t laugh he’s bolting out of his seat to check the list. Desperately hoping it’s some kind of joke.

It’s not.

“Oh…shit.”

He doesn’t know how to talk to Keith without picking a fight but he knows at some point Keith will find out about it and come to him. Keith never does.

It’s after class and the others have nearly all filed out of the classroom when he stops in front of Keith, who as always takes his sweet time with packing up his things. His lack of punctuality is another one of those traits that rubs James’ nerves raw.

“Did you see who you were partnered with for the project?”

“No.” the way Keith says it is so dismissive it make his blood boil. He can take a wild guess why they were partnered up. The teachers aren’t so stupid that they wouldn’t find out about the rumours. And their fight in the parking lot was just another reason to push them together to “work through things”. Except things don’t work that way. They never did with Keith.

“Well I did. And lucky me I got partnered up with you.” He spits at the boy. Keith looks bored, like he doesn’t care. James can’t afford to let his grades drop because Keith decided to slack off.

“Sucks to be you I guess.”

“Look, Keith…” James breathes through his nose, slowly, mentally counting to ten and then backwards. “I hate this as much as you do, trust me. But we need to work to-“

“You’re the suck up, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“The teacher’s pet, boy genius, yada-yada, yeah?” Keith looks at the door, his voice a low drawl, James notices for the first time how Keith no longer has that unique drag he had as a child. “Tell them to get you another partner. I’ve got better things to do.”

And with that Keith turns on his heel and leaves without another glance.

* * *

 

They don’t change his partner. They tell him to learn to take responsibility for his actions.

The project is a failure. Not in the way that it gets him an F. But rather the deduction of one person and a half from the overall score and he’s barely dragging himself past mediocre students in his class. Keith never showed up on the day of the presentation, he never put in any effort or even lifted a finger. It doesn’t work out. His teachers look at him with pity in their eyes but none of them acknowledge their mistake in teaming them up.

They’re kids after all. Easier than taking the blame from a messed up decision.

His father isn’t happy with the news of his score. His eyes don’t even land on him once as he tosses the sheet on the table beside him.

“I expected better from you.”

“I’m sorry dad.”

James watches the sheet grow damp from the condensation on the glass it landed next to. That’s his third glass of the evening. The pungent smell of alcohol wafting from his father as his gaze remains fixed on the TV. Sometimes James wonders if he actually even watches the news or not.

“Why?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Why did your score drop?” It’s not asked like a question. It’s a demand and his father’s gaze is fixed on his face. His face is flushed a little but in the cold blue glare of the TV and the otherwise dark room it’s nearly impossible to tell.

“My project partner,” James starts “He didn’t show up.”

“Who is it?”

“Some kid.”

“Who is it James?” the growl in the words make his blood run cold.

“Keith.” And the way his father’s eyes bug out is almost comical before they narrow back into a glare. “That tiny kid?”

“Yes.” And he doesn’t know why he does it but he tacks on a lie, “He’s been sick lately. So he couldn’t help.”

“I told you to stay away from him.”

“I know.”

“Good.” His father smiles then and puts a hand on his shoulder but somehow it doesn’t bring him that blinding sense of pride anymore. “I want you to do better next time. This is unacceptable. I don’t know what your mother does when I’m not here.”

“It’s not mom’s fault. I didn’t work hard enough.”

His father is silent, the hand on his shoulder is tight, fingers digging into his shoulder a little too hard. His gaze is steely in his drunken haze, narrowed and fixed on his face.

“Go to bed.”

And he does.

* * *

 

His relationship with Keith doesn’t deteriorate as much as it disappears. Keith becomes more of a recluse as time goes on. The rumours about him get worse.

But Keith never acknowledges them. Never tries to stop them. James lets him brood in his corner. What little concern he has for Keith melts away into indifference. The teachers label him a problematic child, a discipline case.

They never team him up with Keith again, and that’s all James cares about.

* * *

 

It’s in the first year of high school when he gets the chance to be chosen for the Galaxy Garrison’s scholarship programme. It involves a state level recruitment exam and flight simulator.

Officer Shirogane is the one who shows up, he’s young too and his reputation does indeed precede him. James knows he is the Garrison’s Golden Boy. His father would rave about that one Astro-explorer who was the youngest to fly out as far as Triton.

He does great on the simulator, better than others. But then Keith gets a shot and he blows the scores out of the water. It’s a shock of a strange kind. Keith, the Keith who was least interested in achieving anything is somehow naturally gifted in this. Of course he is.

Keith Kogane had always been a constant in his life, as well as the bane of his existence. Be it back in middle school when he showed up for the first time, knees scraped and adorned with colourful bandages, a scowl on his face, or now as he possibly, improbably ruins his chances of getting in.

Only one student from each school is to receive the scholarship. And it seems awfully unfair that despite all his hard work and struggle to get into the Garrison he would get pushed aside for Keith, who never even pretended to have a dream or plan. Just because he was a ‘natural’ as Shirogane put it.

Of course he doesn’t make it into the list of students shortlisted for the qualifying exam. Of course he steals Shirogane’s car for some weird reason only he can justify.

What doesn’t however make sense is when he sees Keith the next day in school, the news that Shirogane got him out of trouble or the fact that his name along with James’ makes it on the list.

It isn’t fair.

* * *

 

That night he wakes up to muffled screaming and angered shouts. It’s on the landing that his world falls away. His mother on her knees, screaming at his father who has his hand fisted in her hair. The other raised to strike. His vision tinted red he throws himself at his father, tackling him to the floor.

He feels hands wrapping around his arms before he can get his hands around the dazed man’s neck. He reeks of alcohol. His mother pulls him off and away from his father who struggles to get back on his feet, he gives up after a moment and sits there on the floor. Fixing James with a glare he growls,

“Stay out of this.”

He’s screaming by the time his mother drags him into his room, locks the door behind her. He doesn’t sleep that night. His mother is curled up on her side, head resting in his lap and he strokes her short hair, the same shade as his.

“I won’t let him do it again.” He whispers, listening to her soft snoring. “I promise.”

* * *

 

“Why don’t you get a divorce?” He asks the next day, his dad packed up and left in the morning, without a word. It’s fine. It’s good.

“Because that’s not how family works Jimmy.” She smiles at him, flour dusted in her dark hair. “Sometimes when you love someone you have to make sacrifices.”

The question isn’t about love though, James wonders, it’s about how much you are willing to sacrifice. He knows why she doesn’t leave. She has already lost one son, she can’t lose another AND a husband.

And the thing that makes him ache the most is that it’s his father. And no matter what happens he does love him. And he still wants to make him proud.

It makes him wonder if he is any better.

* * *

 

He clears the exam with a top score. He makes it into the Garrison and so does Keith. They both get assigned to Fighter Class. But where Keith is a natural at the simulator he is a disaster to be teamed up with. It happens several times over the course of the first three months. Their overall score drops. Keith ignores anyone who tries to talk some sense into him.

The fourth month is when he snaps. He hasn’t spoken to Keith. Not since Middle school. Not a proper conversation. He’s messed up a major test simulation and they’re all given detention. It’s not something that he needs, not right now. Being a scholarship student he has to keep his grades up. He needs his performance at the peak to retain it. But Keith is still being a defiant, disrespectful brat to Iverson and the whole team already has enough on their plate thanks to Keith.

“Thanks a lot!” he bites out.

“My pleasure.”

He snaps.

It ends up with a week’s worth of toilet cleaning duty, a disappointed lecture and a bruised face.

* * *

 

It’s Shirogane, with his puppy dog eyes and calming presence, who tells him that Mr Kogane is dead. Has been dead for over three years now. And things begin to make sense. The way Keith had suddenly disappeared for a week, then a whole year, the way he changed.

And it takes him a whole week to work up the nerve to talk to Keith. He finds Keith after classes, scrubbing toilets in the third floor bathroom. The punishments here are humiliating. And the way Keith scrubs the ceramic he wonders if he will file the whole thing down to a stump.

“Hey.”

Keith yelps and slips on the water slick floor, bracing himself against the wall.

“What do you want?”

“I didn’t know about your dad.” He shuffles on his feet, unable to meet his gaze. “Regardless, what I said was wrong.”

Keith doesn’t answer. He turns back around and gets back to scrubbing the ceramic clean.

“Aren’t you going to say something?”

“What’s there to say?” his voice is dull, and irritation sparks in his veins.

“I’m apologising for what I did.”

Keith doesn’t say anything for a moment. But then his shoulders hunch forward and he sighs. “I’m sorry for being a dick.”

“Apology accepted.” He attempts a smile, if things need to get better, he needs to be the bigger man here. He holds out his hand in front of Keith, “So…friends?”

“You move awfully fast.” Keith says, eyeing his extended hand.

“I thought you said you were the fastest in all of Garrison?” he smirks.

“I said I can ‘ _out-fly_ ’ anyone.”

“So you admit you aren’t the fastest?”

“Don’t hurt yourself with that reach, Griffin.” But he takes the hand and shakes it. His grip is the same as it was all those years ago. Solid, powerful.

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

* * *

 

Things get a lot better after that, their rivalry is somewhat healthier, Keith actually puts in some effort in group activities and team simulation runs. It’s still too late in some aspects. The overall score has dropped and despite having two of the most promising pilots on their team they barely crawl their way onto the leader board. One of the kids on their team, Lance, is the worst affected. An average student but an extremely hard worker, his piloting is above average, but he panics and fumbles in simulations. The overall performance is a blow to his score and he gets knocked down to Cargo class.

It’s not a memory that sticks. Keith rarely remembers faces and hardly ever attempts conversation outside of him and Shirogane, and James himself is too busy with maintaining his grades to keep his scholarship steady.

It’s a week later when Keith shows up at his door, eyes down, a pout on his face. He’s embarrassed, James’ mind supplies.

“Hey.”

“Shiro said…” Keith stops, clears his throat and starts again, “Shiro said since we’re…friends and all. I should-”

“Yeah?” he leans against the door. Waiting for him to get to the point. Egging Keith on, he learned, only led to misery and long silences, it was best, to give him time to come up with how he wanted to say something and when he wanted to say it.

“I need help with the theory.”

“You need me to tutor you?”

“I would ask Shiro but he’s busy with Kerberos…so…yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Wait…That’s it?” Keith looks incredulous, as if he were prepared that James would ask for his first born.

“Yeah.” James grins, “That’s kind of what ‘ _friends_ ’ do.”

* * *

 

A week later Keith is transferred to James’ room. And the glare Keith has been shooting at Shirogane tells him the TA had something to do with it.

They end up spending all of their time together. They spend the evenings studying in the library, lunch breaks are spent discussing the logistics and strategies for flight simulations. A bunch of James’ friends try striking up conversations with Keith but he withdraws into himself whenever approached.

The only time they spend apart is after lunch when Keith goes Hover bike racing with Shirogane. It takes about two months for it to become a routine. Two months for Keith to actually smile at James so brightly he feels his stomach swoop and chest tighten.

They both hit their growth spurt, much like many of their classmates, not all but most. James struggles with his lanky limbs for a while, knocking things over, bumping into others and more before he grows into them. Keith remains oddly soft looking despite looking less like a kid. He gains a handful of inches but is still short for someone his age. His face is still more round, eyes large and puppy like. He’s almost pretty.

It’s nearly a year into Garrison, when things change. They’re back on the rooftop. Once again out of bounds for cadets, but Keith still doesn’t care and he still drags James along with him. Keith’s talking about the stars, about constellations and their meanings.

“They remind me of my dad” he’d said the first time they came here. And James listens. His voice got deeper, somewhat raspier. It’s still soothing and he realises with a slow dawning distress that he could listen to him talk for hours.

It’s not till Keith’s eyes meet his that he realises that he has stopped talking, that he asked James a question.

“Sorry…what?”

Keith’s eyes are soft around the edges, the moonlight blurs out his harsh lines and sharp angles curving around his rounded cheeks and glinting off his dark hair.

“I’m gonna kiss you. Okay?” His voice is soft and James feels his face burn, he nods once. It’s a jerky motion and Keith’s shoulders shake in a nervous chuckle.

A year into Garrison, James has his first kiss under the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a little long and I had to break it off. I'm terrible with consistent chapter length. Oh well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and him, they’ve been a thing since the rooftop. Not openly, it seems too weird a concept for them to hold hands in public. Its still new and he doesn’t quite mind Keith being distant in public. Behind closed doors though, Keith is vibrant and energetic. Still doesn’t talk much, it comes as a surprise that Keith is particularly tactile. 
> 
> Yep. The chapter is super late and I can't make any promises for when the next one will be up. I barely managed to get free time to get this one out. But I do have major scenes written down for the future chapters so I guess I just need to keep working side by side.

The word about the Kerberos mission comes out halfway through the second year. Its more a rumour than anything else and there’s some hushed whispers about Shirogane being the one to pilot the mission. The rumours aren’t confirmed or denied for a long while and it does seem unusual that everything seems so hushed. 

James is well aware that Shirogane has been on several missions before and is record holder in just about every field they could whip up in the Garrison and it only makes sense that Shirogane would be chosen for a mission as highly anticipated as Kerberos. He’d be making history, going to the farthest corners of the galaxy, first of mankind to ever pilot that far out. It sparks a fire in his gut, he wants to go farther, be better and knowing how fast the Garrison is advancing it is likely that he just might. 

Keith on the other hand is buzzing with excitement at the news and ofcourse he knows, he’s Shirogane’s protégé. Keith babbles on and on about just how cool it is. That he’s gonna master some jump by the time Shiro comes back. It’s equal parts endearing and annoying how giddy he gets over the senior. 

Keith and him, they’ve been a thing since the rooftop. Not openly, it seems too weird a concept for them to hold hands in public. Its still new and he doesn’t quite mind Keith being distant in public. Behind closed doors though, Keith is vibrant and energetic. Still doesn’t talk much, it comes as a surprise that Keith is particularly tactile. 

Study sessions turn to study dates, the only thing that changes at all is Keith likes to tangle their legs together under the table. Meals are had together but never with Keith next to him. Keith prefers to sit next to Liefdottir. She’s one of the cadets in the advanced class, neither of them talk much but when she does Keith seems to listen intently and it’s a revelation to James that Keith does in fact get along with people. Ina tends not to care much about people, preferring facts and numbers over gossip and jokes and somehow Keith gets her enough to actually smile at her which she tends to reciprocate in her own way. And if Keith ever does catch him staring from across the table, the only acknowledgement he gets is a small smile. 

James can bet his liver that Keith deliberately does that when he is drinking because he always inhales his drink.

* * *

 

“No way!” Keith shoots upright on his bed, hair sticking up in every direction, “You have never been camping?”

James rolls his eyes and tsks at the boy, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“But you have never actually been camping?” 

“No.” James sighs exasperated. “Dad…he didn’t have the time. And then Carmen left.” He takes a deep breath and is surprised by how shaky it is. He can sense keith watching him in the darkened room.  The only light is the streak of it falling over Keith’s bed from the lamp they shoved into the cupboard to act like a pseudo night lamp. His eyes study him in silence so he continues, “So yeah… never got the chance actually.”

For a moment its quite, and he resigns himself to the knowledge that he may have ruined the otherwise good mood. Suddenly Keith hops off the bed and rummages through his desk drawer in the dark. James sits up, surprise and confusiom colour his words making him snappy. 

“What are you doing?”

“Just a minute!” Keith fires back, there’s the crinkling of wrappers and then he finds himself being pulled into a seated position and Keith takes up the spot directly in front of him. He dumps a bag of peanuts and a flashlight in his lap and swings a bedsheet behind him and pulls it over their heads. 

“What?”

The flashlight snaps on and James is momentarily blinded by it and has to blink several times till the spots stop dancing in his gaze. Keith is sitting there, the sheet framing him and pushing his unruly hair into his face, the warm yellow light of the flashlight softening his features impossibly. He’s grinning at him but there’s a hesitance in his eyes. 

‘He’s shy’ James realizes. 

“You’ve never been camping before.” Keith says nudign their knees together. he reaches for the bag in James’ lap and pushes it into his chest. “so we're camping now.”

“This is camping?” James teases, fighting back his own grin.

“Well it’s too late to sneak out and the main gates are all locked down by now. So yeah, we have a tent,” Keith flicks his eyes to the sheet over their heads, “a fire” shakes the torch. “and snacks.” 

“This is how you camp, Kogane?”

“You can’t handle real camping princess.” He laughs, James shuffles close, ripping the packet open neatly. 

“I bet you I can.”

“We’ll see.”

And it takes his breath away, just how pretty Keith is. The light highlights the swell of his bottom lip, curves over his button nose and makes his round cheeks look puffier, his eyes reflect the light making them look larger and more open. 

No…its not the light, its Keith opening up.

He bites his lip and lets his gaze linger on the lips when Keith pops in a handful of the peanuts. 

“Is this your way of tricking me into date Keith?” he attempts a smirk, trying to cover up his own sudden nervousness.

"You want it to be?”

“I-” His gaze flickers to those lips and back up to Keith’s eyes and he can tell he noticed. 

Keith presses the flashlight between his legs, raising his hands and pushing the sheet a little to make room and leans in close. 

“I don’t mind if you don’t.” He whispers and James feels the warm breath brush against his mouth. 

This close he can almost taste the salt on Keith’s bottom lip. “Okay.” it punches out of him and Keith chuckles against him when he surges forward and presses their lips together. Keith leans in closer, sighing through his nose and letting one palm cup his face. Tentatively he lets his tongue peek out and flick against Keith’s bottom lip, tasting the salt. He pulls back a fraction then, licking his lips and savoring the taste. 

“Yeah, a date would be nice.” Keith grins then, and leans back in.

As far as first dates go, it’s really not the worst James can think of.

* * *

 

With summer break right around the corner, James is one of the many getting ready to head home. His mother has been sick for for a while and he plans on spending as much time as he can with her till she feels better. His bags are packed and he's confirming his tickets for the next evening when he gets a text message from Ina letting him know that Keith might need some help before he learns about the embarrassing mishaps mixing alcohol and teenagers lead to. With a sigh he stalks out in search of Keith.

He finds him with a group of seniors, celebrating summer break and drunk off their feet in the safety of their dorm. Keith's the only one who is a junior there, making him the only one at the real risk of getting caught drunk in the hallways.

“Okay enough of that for you.” He says reaching for Keith’s free arm and looping it over his shoulder and hefts him to his feet with a grunt. Keith stumbles over air and hangs off of him like a rag. 

“I’m just getting started!” Keith crows, throwing out an arm and smacking his hand into a wall. “Ow.”

“How much did he drink?” he asks and the girl at the bar chuckles and mimes a number. “Wow.”

Getting to the rooms is not difficult, James has the patrol pattern of the officers memorised. So navigating past them isn’t an issue. The real problem is getting Keith to not blow their cover. Usually Keith is silent and reserved to the point that he has mastered the “talk to me and die” stare to an art form. But this? This is just ridiculous. 

Drunk Keith is a mess, he’s a babbling, giggling mess. Honest to God giggling and he swings his limbs like a penguin on an acid trip. And he has no sense of personal space. Which is doubly hilarious given sober Keith’s insistence on at least an arm’s length of space.

James manages somehow, barely making it past the last officer in their hallway, dragging Keith behind him and slipping into their room. The door closes with a click and Keith has already thrown himself face first on James’ bed.

“No!” he snaps, “Shoes off the bed! Off!” 

Keith makes a distressed sound, muffled by the sheets but doesn’t get up. James grabs onto his ankle and tugs, Keith in turn grabs onto the headboard and whines like a petulant child. 

“Don’t be mean to me!” 

“Those are fresh sheets you drunken chimp!” he tugs at his foot hard “Now shoes OFF!”

Keith’s shoe pops off his foot and James stumbles back and lands on his ass, the pain radiating up his spine.

“Ow.”

Keith laughs then, he’s looking over his shoulder at him, eyes glassy and wide and more open than any other time James has seen him. He raises his other foot and toes off the shoe. It lands on the bed and Keith locks eyes with James, violet twinkling with mirth. He slowly pushes the shoe towards the edge, taking his time, knowing that every second the shoe stays on the bed James brow twitches more insistently. Until finally,  finally , it falls off the side with a dull thump.

“You know…” James says then, voice tight but lacking any venom, “I’m going to enjoy seeing you hung over tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t get hung-over.” 

“We’ll see Light Weight.” James cackles, slipping off his own shoes and turning off the lights, with Keith sprawled out on his bed he moves to slip into Keith’s.

“What are you doing?” 

“Going to bed. Like a normal person.”

“That’s my bed.” 

“And?”

“You didn’t ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

“Keith…can I sleep on your bed.”

“Can I sleep on your bed?”

“No.”

“Oh then pray tell where I should sleep?”

Keith doesn’t say anything, but looks at him like he’s an idiot. Then he shuffles on the bed shifting away from the edge and towards the wall. It takes James a moment to realise he’s making space. 

For a moment he doesn’t move, waiting for something, he doesn’t know what. Then Keith pats the empty space. James sighs, long and heavy, slips into the bed next to Keith, who wiggles around till they’re both lying face to face. 

“You came at the worst time.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. “He pouts. “We were gonna play spin the bottle.”

“Keith, do you even know what that is?”

“’course I do!” Keith whines, offended, “It’s another name for truth or dare.”

“Uhh…sure let’s just go with that.”

“I like games.”

“That’s nice.”

“I also like space.”

“I know.”

“I don’t like the dark.”

“That…” James pauses, surprised, “that I didn’t know actually.”

“Yeah. Back at the orphanage we’d have these night lamps. They were too bright to sleep in.” 

“I also like your hair, its soft.”

“Thank you. I actually wash it.”

“Ow.”

“I like your voice too.”

“You’re a sappy drunk, Kogane?”

“Hardly.” Keith scoffs but he’s already leaning forward and pressing their mouths together. It’s dry and chaste. He kisses back, wrapping an arm under and around his shoulders, pulling him in.

“Not gonna miss you.” He mumbles into the kiss and James chuckles.

Keith pushes a leg between his and presses into him. And oh! Keith isn’t just a sappy drunk. He’s a horny drunk. He’s hard against his thigh and grinds against it, hips moving in a slow languid roll. But he doesn’t deepen the kiss. 

It’s when James presses his fingers into the swell of his ass, pulling him into himself on the next thrust that Keith moans. It’s hoarse and heavy, and heat twists at the base of his spine. There’s a twitch between his legs and when Keith’s legs hooks around his hip, he licks into his mouth. It tastes like whiskey but at that moment he could care less about anything but the weight against his half hard erection and the press of a tongue against the roof of his mouth. With the next roll of his hips, Keith squeezes his leg around James and he groans into Keith’s mouth. 

Keith pushes himself up, swinging his body to the side, fully seating himself on top of James. Straddling his hips and leans down, hand fisting into James’ short hair and pulling him into a biting kiss. This time when Keith grinds into him James pushes back, fingers weaving into hair and tugging. The other hand presses into a slender hip pulling him down to meet his own thrusts.

They move in sync, oddly enough, for the first time. They move till the room is filled with harsh panting breaths and whispered names. Till muscles flex and backs bow down, sweat dripping into their eyes. Till choked back whimpers give way to quite snores. 

James wakes up with a mouthful of hair and heavy weight on his chest. An elbow digging into his spine and crusty, uncomfortable pair of pants. 

He doesn’t quite mind.

* * *

 

Its summer break when his mother dies. 

“She was sick.” They all say. His father, the doctors, the people. “Poor Amanda.” They say with pity colouring their words, dripping like poison down his neck, burning away flesh and stripping it from his bones. “She was too young to die.” 

“Life isn’t fair”, his father says.

The chord holding him in one piece snaps. 

She passes away in her sleep. James seated beside her on the hospital bed, running his fingers through her damp, matted hair. It is only because the steady beeping of the heart monitor morphs into a flat line that he knows it’s happened. He is bodily lifted before he can react and tossed out the room. He hears the doctor barking orders and the clattering of machinery as the nurses race across the room. The steady wail of the monitor burns into his soul.

“We did all we could for her.” The doctor says later, unable to meet their eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Some say “at least she died peacefully.” And James wants to feel their nose shatter under his knuckles. He knows it’s just pain but he needs to go. He wants to go home but without his mother there…

The funeral is a quite thing. People make solemn speeches and leave behind trinkets. He watches as the casket is lowered into the earth. He watches as the dirt is shovelled back in. He watches the people, their eyes lowered in respect or sorrow, he cannot tell. 

But he doesn’t cry.

His father stands silently next to him, talking to the people quietly as they leave. He tunes them out. Let’s his mind wander, gaze fixed to the freshly filled grave. Its only when he feels a heavy hand on his shoulders when he comes back to reality.

“Let’s go home, son.” 

The pressure of the hand suffocates him, his eyes remain locked on his father’s face. Looking for something like regret, remorse. Something but this sorrow that revolves around losing a ‘wife’ and not a ‘loved one’.

He doesn’t find it. 

The ride back home is silent. He stares out the window. The day is bright and sunny, nothing like the cliché of a depressive downpour to go with the events of the day. 

Their house is too big and too cold. His footsteps seem to echo in its emptiness. Breaths too loud in the silence. He has his bag packed and ready within an hour. His father is seated on his favoured couch, the TV isn’t switched on. A glass of alcohol in his hands, a half empty bottle of whiskey on the table.  

“Where are you going?”

“Away.” He doesn’t have a reason to lie. Not to this man.

“James, I know you’re upset,” his father starts, his words slurred and James gaze lands on the empty bottle lying on the floor under the table, “but we need to stick together.”

He barks out a laugh, bitter and violent and rough.

“Like you stuck with mom?”

It strikes a chord and his father stands up, swaying on his feet.

“I loved your mother!”

“Was that love?”

“You’re not going anywhere.” He slashes a hand through the air, the glass slips from his fingers, smashing into the floor, and glass shards scatter everywhere. Both of their attention drawn to the glass, the room is silent.

“You deserve it, you know.” His father looks up at him, eyes glassy, brows furrowed in alcohol induced confusion.

“You deserve this. For what you did to us. To her.” He hefts his bag onto his shoulder, adjusting the strap, most of his belongings are at the Garrison already. “You deserve to be alone.”

“I am your father.”

“Yes…so I’m weeding you out.” 

“You can’t leave!”

James shows himself out. He can hear his father bellowing at him to get back inside. But he can’t. With his mother gone, the last thread of affection for his father seeps away. The chill climbs up his spine. 

This isn’t home. Not anymore. Hasn’t been one since Carmen left. 

There’s only one place he has left to go.

* * *

 

The shuttle ride back to the Garrison is quite. It’s late and few people loiter in the cold of the desert night. He can’t quite say he’s going home, Garrison will never be home but home is gone and he doesn’t have much else to stay for. His footsteps echo in the empty hallways of the building, there is rarely any patrol during vacations with most of the students home. The only one to give him a questioning look is the guard stationed at the gates, checking him in and he can only shrug and imply a change of plans.

It takes three series of knocks for the door to his room to open, Keith stands there in a pair of boxers and a faded tee shirt, his hair is a mess and the left side of his face has the imprint of his sheets. Of course he was sleeping, James realises, its 3 am. 

“James?” he slurs, “You’re early.”

“Yeah.” His voice is cracked and his throat aches, he wants to throw up. He wants to cry. Keith’s brows furrow and the haze leaves his gaze. 

“Are you okay?” and there’s a warm hand on his shoulder. Warm like his mother’s. His eyes burn and his throat closes up and then he’s pushing into Keith, letting his bag drop from his shoulders, he pushes his face into Keith’s neck. He doesn’t mean to cry but by the time he makes the resolve Keith’s collar is already wet and he’s gasping out the words. Choking them out when Keith wraps his arms around his back, his shoulders shaking as he fists his hands into the front of his own jacket. 

He wants to curl in on himself and disappear, hide in a corner till the world stops moving.

Keith doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t coo out reassurances or whisper apologies over his mother’s death. But he knows loss. He knows what it’s like to lose a parent. To have nothing left and that’s comfort enough. Keith pulls him in and shuts the door one handed. James knows he makes an ugly picture, bawling against the shorter boy, tears and snot running down his face, ruining Keith’s clothes.

The hands tracing his spine are another reminder of who he lost that he doesn’t want but he can’t pull away and chokes on something raw, lurching forward, tipping them off balance till their knees crash into the floor. And there they stay, till Keith’s hand is stroking his hair, holding his shaking shoulders to keep him grounded. Till his wails slow to hiccups and hiccups turn to something steadier, slower. They stay there till the ticking of the clock and his unsteady breaths are the only sounds in the room. Till his lids get heavy with exhaustion and sleep.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is a harsh whisper against Keith’s neck. He feels Keith shake his head his hand stops running through his hair, pressing into the base of his neck. 

“I’m here.” And he settles his weight against the other and listens to his steady pulse against his ear, counts them till he can’t tell it from the sound of his own heartbeat. He lets his eyes fall shut.

And he dreams.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I am aware this work may not be up to mark however I'm not focusing too much on making it perfect at present. Just a writing exercise for now.
> 
> Warning: Note the ratings. The fic is explicit. Read at your own risk. You have been warned.
> 
> Disclaimer: Voltron Legendary Defenders is the property of DreamWorks and I in no way or form claim rights to their characters.


End file.
